


we love until we bleed

by lilliputianmerriell



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15773568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilliputianmerriell/pseuds/lilliputianmerriell
Summary: All Snafu wants is to suck his boyfriend off in peace and eat some goddamn chicken gumbo.





	we love until we bleed

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of Sledgefu Week. Prompt: Dystopia/Sci-fi AU.
> 
> Title from Kleerup ft. Lykke Li's "Until we Bleed".

Snafu grunts with discontent when he stumbles over another rock in the uneven, half-rotted floor of the depilated ruin of a building. He was pretty sure it had been a pretty nice store at some point, maybe a Wholefoods or some shit that fancy people liked to shop at, but now it was just another dusty hole in the ground that another sad fuck like him was hoping there was even the smallest tins of 10-year-old canned foods. Soup was always good, because it was less likely to cause constipation which was like a death sentence now-a-day. Solid foods were also more impractical compared tinned, because they needed to be prepared and took up more space. It was also a lot more difficult to get a hold of as fresh produce had rotted away months and months ago.

What Snafu wouldn’t give for one of those hot meals his mama used to make – shrimp jambalaya with ham and andouille sausages, and freshly fried beignets afterwards. If he concentrated, he could almost remember the wonderful smells that always came from his mama’s kitchen. That was a distant memory now. The kitchen was long gone, and so was his mama, and there was really no point in dwelling on it. Burgie always told him that it was better to forget what had been in order to focus on the future and moving forward, and Snafu agreed. They’d both seen too many men and women crumble under the realisation that they’d never get those days back.

Still, Snafu would fucking kill for some of that watered-down Campbell’s chicken gumbo, anything to give him a remote taste of home, of those days when they weren’t constantly running for their lives, barely surviving. 

“Do you see anything?” A tinny voice sounds from the walkie-talkie strapped to his backpack and shatters the tense silence surrounding Snafu. It is too loud and Snafu scrambles for the source of the noise, desperate to make the person on the other end be quiet.

“No, but if you don’t shut up I am sure something will find me and have a nibble,” Snafu hisses into the radio. His eyes desperately search the area for any movement before landing on the tall hill behind the store where Eugene was camping with a rifle, keeping an eye on the open terrain around Snafu. 

There is a brief pause before Eugene’s petulant voice sounds again through the speaker along with tons of static, “Didn’t hear you complaining about noise yesterday.”

He definitely hadn’t. The night before had been nothing short of fucking mind-blowing. They’d crawled into bed together, exhausted after another long day, and Snafu had sucked him off real sweet and slow while gently thumbing that spot up his ass that had Eugene writhing underneath him, whimpering about needing release. The pitiful whines that had escaped him when he finally came down Snafu’s throat had been simply delicious.  

“Definitely didn’t, boo, but Burgie sure did this morning,” Snafu quips as he ducks underneath a half-collapsed wall and switches on his flashlight in the darkness, “Told me to keep it in my fuckin’ pants next time if we were going to be that loud. Said he didn’t want to get eaten simply because we were insatiable nymphos or some shit.”

“Huh, doesn’t sounds like him.”

“Flo is about one month away from having a baby, and we ain’t got any coffee or booze for over two weeks. Safe to say, he’s a bit on edge like the rest’a us.”

There is no response from the other end of the walkie-talkie, so Snafu shuffles further into the building, praying that nothing was going to jump him in the darkness and take a hefty bite off him. Turning another corner, a few rows of intact isles catches his eyes and he makes a triumphant noise in the back of his throat. They hadn’t found any stores that had not been robbed clean of any sustainable foods in the last few weeks, so the stocked shelves were a sight for sore, starving eyes.

Carefully creeping down the aisles, he inspects the items on the shelves; rows of rotten bread and out of date sauces… stuff for baking… dried biscuits… canned fruits… Snafu makes a face at the canned mushroom before he finally encounters what he is there for; coffee and canned soups of all varieties. There was no alcohol though, but Flo mainly used that for a disinfectant, which took most of the fun out of it anyway.

Just as he reaches for a particularly appealing tin of chicken soup he hears the loud, rattling bang of a gunshot echoing in the distance, followed by multiple loud screeches and groans.

Snafu tenses, his fingers brushing against the delicious tin as he stands there frozen to the ground while listening to the inhuman noises creeping around the broken-down store. No wonder this place was so well-stocked. The place was fucking infested by the sound of it, it was a miracle he’d gotten this far without bumping into one of those flesh-eating assholes. If he didn’t move soon he was going to become their next meal, he was sure of it.

“Get the hell out of there!” Eugene screams at him through the radio, effectively snapping Snafu out of his frozen state but also attracting the attention of the creatures surrounding him.

Snafu curses when he spots one of them rounding the corner of the aisle where he is standing, it’s ugly, maggot-eaten face snapping towards him when it senses his presence. There was no way that it could see him however, as where its’ eyes were supposed to be was just two hollow sockets sitting in its face. Its’ jaws, which were barely hanging on to the rest of its’ skull, were lazily ruminating, as if it already had taken a large chomp of him.

Reaching for his gun, Snafu aims directly into one of those hollow eye-sockets and fires, watching the rotten lump of meat collapse to the ground in front of him. Another screech comes from behind, and Snafu spins on the spot, raising his gun again and aims, fires, before he makes his escape as fast as he possibly can while praying he wasn’t about to become someone else’s dinner now that he had lost his.

Dull, yellow teeth are snapping at his heels and fingers with long, bloody nails grasp for his loose-fitting clothes while gunshots and screeches echoes all around him, but it falls on deaf ears as his heart pounds furiously in his chest.

It was a strange feeling, thinking you were about to die. His life didn’t pass by his eyes like a broken movie like he’d always been told by the movies and books Eugene had read for him. Instead his head are filled with wishes; wishing he’d been faster. Wishing he was back in his mama’s kitchen. Wishing that he was back in his make-shift bed with Eugene that very morning, still blissed out by the sex and the love for the man lying curled around him underneath the motheaten blankets. Wishing they didn’t live in a perpetual state of fear and hunger, constantly running for their lives.

But Snafu wasn’t dead yet, and as another gunshot echoes through the uneven terrain Snafu could swear he heard Eugene’s soft voice whispering into his ear in its’ wake, _‘please come back safe, I need you, you son of a bitch.’_

With his backpack and stomach empty, Snafu runs for his life, _their_ life, through the hordes.


End file.
